Hello, Goodbye
by Daisybooks
Summary: "After all, curiosity is unbecoming in a woman." After all she's been through, Susan swore to herself that she wouldn't feel that pain again. This chronicles the heavy mask she always wears, and the cracks it's starting to form.
1. Chapter 1

**Despite Susan's harsh ending, I've always liked her, and thought of her as my favorite, although each king and queen holds a special place in my heart. So, this small story is about her pre TLB – post TLB. Enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: I do not, nor never will, own the Chronicles of Narnia books, movies, video games, or action figures. It's really a shame.**

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_We are never defeated unless we give up on God - Ronald Reagan_

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The dark grey clouds sat in the sky, covering the sun's beautiful rays. Everything was grey, from the concrete, to the buildings, to the farthest reaches of the skyline. Nobody took offense, however, merely chuckling and saying, 'Typical England.'

The clouds reflected Susan Pevensie, although she didn't know it yet. She didn't know anything yet, unless one counted the millions of lipstick brands as something. That frigid afternoon she was smearing the creamy tube over her lips, making them pop against her pale skin. Her beautiful midnight black hair was curled in the latest style, the locks falling elegantly on her shoulders, pinned back by a small blue bow. In her cerulean blue dress, Susan was the picture of elegance to any stranger on the street. Pouting at the mirror, she didn't notice someone standing by the door, staring at the way she flaunted her beauty.

Lucy Pevensie was not a stranger on the street. As she watched her elder sister giggle and spin, no tinge of envy clouded her eyes. Once upon a time, it did, but that a was different time, back when Susan was still happy and _gentle. _Now, covered in chemicals and fake silk, her sister never looked uglier. A rock of pity fell in her heart.

After several seconds, Susan turned her dark blue eyes to the door, and smiled when noticing Lucy.

"Don't you think I look lovely?" she said, her lips stretching into a grin. She did a twirl, and Lucy smiled back, although it didn't reach her eyes.

"You're beautiful," she whispered, fueling Susan's vain. The elder girl twisted the bottom of her lipstick tube, and pocketed it into a small bag.

It was only afternoon, Susan couldn't be going to a party, Lucy thought. She recalled how her mother said that Susan and her were going out to the bookstore, to pick up something for Edmund. Brows furrowing in confusion, she leant back against the doorframe.

"Aren't you going to the store?" Lucy asked curiously. Her elder sister couldn't have reached the point where she wore ball gowns to the store to flaunt her assets. That was mad, simply preposterous.

Susan nodded, her eyes still trained on her reflection into the mirror. "Yes, but there's nothing wrong with wanting to look nice," she drawled out, tugging her skirts slightly down.

After a second, Susan blushed and turned to Lucy with a knowing glance. "But...there's a new boy working at the bookstore, and you know how it is." Winking at her sister, she grabbed her coat which hung delicately over the chair.

Yes, Lucy completely understood how it was. Since she could remember, Susan was always in love with the idea of love, wanting to be looked after, instead of the other way around. She recalled how the older girl used to be like a mother hen when they were young, which grew into a deep motherly concern by the time they were adults ruling as kings and queens. Despite the dozens of suitors she had at each ball, Susan never laid the same love and attention on them as she did to her siblings. Looking back, her sister did everything to make sure that they didn't lose a mother's love. The first time she ever felt such a great affection for anyone outside of her family was the Great Lion. Lucy remembered how Aslan's amber eyes watched Susan sympathetically, how at each meeting, he breathed his soul into her. For the first time, she was reassured that others cared for her as well. It was a huge tear in her heart to leave behind Aslan, not only the first time, but the second as well. As time passed, Lucy began to see how Susan was trying to fill the tear Aslan made in her heart with different men, although all her courtships were in vain.

Susan scoffed at her reflection, shaking her head in disapproval. "Men are so superficial." Taking one last look of herself in the mirror, Susan's joking smile fell, her eyes blank and empty. Lucy saw the pain she felt, even if she didn't know it herself. All her memories were locked away, the key forgotten somewhere in the hidden confines of her mind.

She wanted to scream, shriek, and yell at her sister, beg her to tell poor Lucy where she had gone. But she didn't. The more she yelled, the more Susan reverted into herself. The Susan she loved was long gone, and yelling would not help.

Walking her way downstairs, her tiny hand gliding down the bannister, Susan joined her mother in the foyer, and began putting her heels on. Kissing Lucy quickly, she smiled at her. That smile never looked so fake, the young queen thought. Watching her mother and sister go, tears began to fall down her face.

How could Susan just give up? How could Susan just forget not only Aslan and everything she did, but who she was? How could the Gentle Queen completely forget what being gentle truly meant?

**Author's Note: I always feel so bad for Susan. She's so misunderstood. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not, nor never will, own the Chronicles of Narnia books, movies, video games, or action figures. **

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_It's discouraging how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit – Noel Coward_

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As the weeks passed, Susan Pevensie was found in the small bookstore more and more often. The boy and her were often seen flirting, her giggling over the counter as she pressed closer to him. He didn't seem to mind, and eventually she would leave the store with smeared lips and messed up hair. Every evening when she crept back into the house, heels in her hand, her siblings would quietly peek out of their doors, glancing at one another with sad frowns and sighs.

One afternoon, she was sitting in the store, waiting for her lover to walk through the door and start his shift. Sitting on a small stool, her purse in her lap, her eyes prowled over the different volumes, stacked on shelves around her. She remembered reading some of them, years ago, but nowadays she had very little time to herself. The novels enticed her, whispering stories long untold. Fidgeting in her chair, Susan sighed and turned her eyes elsewhere.

However, the books didn't stop. The plots began to swirl in her mind, and remembered Mr. Darcy and Tom Sawyer. Enjolras was fighting in one of those books, she thought. Te girl was about to get up, until she scolded herself. _No. You can't read. Any minute, Joseph will walk in. Curiosity is unbecoming for a woman, after all. _Smiling to herself, she took out her lipstick and a small mirror. _Yes, curiosity is unbecoming. Joseph will dump me in a second, and call me loony. And he's such a lovely man. _The reassurances satisfied her mind, but didn't stop her heart from aching. Clicking the mirror shut, a line deepened in Susan's forehead and she frowned.

A minute passed, and she stared longingly out the window. _Maybe only for a second. He's probably just running late. _She got up and straightened her green dress, heading towards the rows of bookcases. Walking into a random section, she looked over the titles emblazoned on the spine. A particular title caught her eye, and she eagerly slid it out of the shelf and plopped herself down a stool nearby.

Hours passed quickly, and by the time she was nearing the middle, the sun was beginning to set. The golden rays illuminated the page, and Susan squinted as she glanced towards the window.

"Oh great!" Grabbing the book, she ran to the counter and paid for it, walking quickly out of the store.

It was nearing dinner when she arrived at the small house. Only as she was about to round the corner into her street, did Susan remember why she was in the bookstore in the first place. _He never showed_. For a strange reason, she didn't really mind. Instead, her mind turned to how chivalrous men used to be, so kind and polite. The girl didn't question her discomfort at the change in men over history. After all, she had just devoured half of a book on medieval history.

Apologizing to her family for returning so late, Susan ate dinner abnormally fast, to her siblings' confusion. Her parents berated her for doing so, warning her of an uneasy stomach. Merely nodding politely, the girl slowed down somewhat, but was still the first to finish her meager dinner of soup.

Curling up in her bed, the only light in the bedroom was the soft lamplight shining down on the print Susan read. Her eyes took everything in, and for a moment, she resembled something of a memory. In her white nightgown decorated with roses and her locks slightly damp from the shower, Susan didn't notice the beauty she had for that one second, a beauty she didn't appreciate. There were many instances during the day when the young woman seemed to be herself. When she was alone, with nobody to critique her as to what to do, Susan had no support, and was forced to stare at what she had become.

Edmund Pevensie was just preparing to go to bed where his sister and brother were waiting for him, when he noticed faint light streaming from the crack under the door. _Strange. _Susan usually went to bed earlier than the rest, so as to maintain her young face. He never understood why she couldn't just wake up later, but didn't question her. Edmund had learned long ago to not question Susan's odd quirks she had made several years back.

Stepping closer to the bedroom his sisters shared, the boy opened the door slowly, so as not to startle his sister. Putting his eye to the crack, his brown eyes stared in shock at the sight. Susan was...reading. About medieval history. She looked completely at peace, as her fingers absent-mindedly stroked her hair. She used to do that when she was lost in thought, Edmund recalled fondly.

The next morning, during his morning walk, he came upon his weeping sister, her body curled up into a ball on a park bench. Immediately, his hand went to his side, until the young king realized no sword was there. He had no weapon with him besides his pocketknife to hurt anybody who hurt Susan.

"Susan?" he said sadly. Her bright blue eyes were wet and glazed with tears, red rimming the edges. Noticing who it was, she went back to her sobbing, although he noticed the volume had increased.

Sitting down beside her, Edmund's hand gently stroked her back. Susan flinched away from him, almost as if she didn't know who he was, as if he was a stranger. Nonetheless, he sat down closer.

"What happened?" he asked softly.

After a minute, she pursed her lips and glanced up at her brother. "He-he didn't show." Edmund immediately knew who the boy in question was. He was always uneasy about him, especially after hearing stories of how he courted two girl in the same week.

"Well, perhaps today was his day off," he answered, trying to reassure her.

She shook her head, the ever immaculate curls in disarray. "No. He," she stopped to let loose another sob. "He didn't show _yesterday_." Her body racked with sobs again, and Edmund waited for the volume to lessen so that she could hear him.

His brows furrowed, a deep crease forming in her forehead. "Why didn't you tell me? Or Peter? You looked fine during dinner." He knew why she didn't say, and was merely wondering if his elder sister would tell him herself.

Sadly not. "I didn't want to bother you," Susan stammered, wiping a tear off her cheek. Itching her nose, she stared blankly at the different hedges and the people who walked past.

His heart fell, although in the back of his mind, the young king knew this would happen. "I see," he replied sadly.

Susan expected him to scold her for talking with Joseph, but instead the two siblings just sat in silence, only the singing of the birds heard. Edmund kept rubbing her back, though. Although she knew she shouldn't have lied, Susan didn't want her brother start to go in a frenzy, telling Peter and Lucy. They would all be in delight, she knew, and start saying how happy they were to 'have her back' and how delighted they were to be able to talk of 'Narnia and Aslan and all the adventures.' Yet, as she watched the birds peck at old bread crumbs on the dirt path, Susan felt slightly guilty. It was obvious Edmund was disappointed that she didn't trust him with her problems. But what problems did she have? _I have none_, she thought, and smiled despite the tears rolling down her face.

Edmund noticed how the next Friday, Susan was off applying her make up again and prancing off to one of her many parties, waving goodbye quickly without a care in the world. As he walked back into the parlor, his brown eyes caught on something gold glinting in the fireplace. Inspecting it, Edmund frowned sadly. He had noticed the object. The book wouldn't be missed, he knew. _After all, curiosity is unbecoming in a woman_, he thought to himself before joining Lucy in the kitchen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not, nor never will, own the Chronicles of Narnia books, movies, video games, or action figures. It's really a shame.**

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_You find out in life that people really like you funny. So what do you give 'em? Humor. And then if you show them the other side, they don't like you as much. I find, too, that I can hide behind the idiot's mask being funny, and you never see the sorrow or the pain - Terry Bradshaw _

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How long had it been, Peter Pevensie thought as he stood at the front door. Six months? Five? He didn't knock or ring the bell, for he was taking in the last remnants of school and the cold harsh shock of rhythm and facts. The minute he stepped through the door, Peter would be swept up in a whirlwind of presents, memories, and the ever present itch at the back of his mind. Lucy would once again sneak into his and Edmund's room, where they would reminisce about past battles, balls, and jokes. Would Susan join us, the young man thought. The last time he spoke to her – the night before he left again for the warfront – she had said her farewells with a superficial smile as she applied some mascara to her already long lashes. She was going off to a party at one of her friend's houses – was it Edith? Or Judith? – and didn't have the time to wallow over his departure. Susan always had better things to do, he reminded himself. No, she won't be joining us, he thought bitterly.

Entering inside, Lucy squealed as her and Ed jumped down the stairs, skipping one step at a time. It seemed to Peter that every time he came to visit, the two looked like they never changed. Perhaps that was the lighting. He recalled back in Narnia, when the four of them always seemed several years older in the beautiful gowns and handsome tunics. It was the Narnian air, really, but the two of them still looked liked children in their England wardrobe. Peter had to remind himself that his brother was already eighteen, while his youngest sister was already thinking of university. As he greeted the two, the king couldn't help but notice the absence of Susan.

Hugging his parents, the party retreated to the parlor, where Peter's father questioned to him as to how his studies were doing. While in the middle of speaking of a prank that a classmate of his did on the teacher, the door slammed shut. Peter's eyes drifted over to the foyer, but his family wasn't too surprised when seeing Susan glide in with a dazed expression on her face. She looked so...pale and dry. The chemicals coating her skin made her entire face seem twenty times more exaggerated, and if the situation was more jovial, he would have teased her on looking like a Taarkheena. He bit his tongue, however. Susan wouldn't remember what a Taarkheena was.

His younger sister beamed at him. "Peter! You're back!" Rushing over to him, Susan enveloped him in a tight hug. He almost smiled, thinking that maybe she did remember. About to tease her on her appearance, Peter abruptly stopped when Susan quickly kissed the air beside his two cheeks. The Susan he knew never did that. His blue eyes turned cold, glowering at her.

Resting her hands on her hips, she rolled her eyes. "It wasn't that much." Peter didn't know what she was talking about, until the sudden smell of heavy alcohol hit him. Her entire body seemed shrouded in the retched aroma, and he desperately wanted to barf. She drank a little during balls, but Peter knew that the rare occasions Susan was intoxicated, she smelled like grapes and spices, a bit like cinammon. Her face was angelic and innocent when he tucked her into her bed after a ball. Now, though, his sister's blue eyes, once warm, were glazed, a small fire building in the irises.

"How-what?" he choked out. How could she? How could his baby sister do this? How could she just waltz around, carefree, acting like a _child_, when truthfully, she was 20?

Before Susan could retort something back, his mother gently coaxed her upstairs, telling her to come and join the family after she changed. When Peter plopped back into his seat, Edmund's and Lucy's eyes were apologetic and pitiful.

It was nearing midnight when his parents went to sleep. The three gathered in the living room, nestled into one another, as a fire warmed the room.

"-and do you remember? Susan practically murdered you, Ed, when you put the frog under her pillow," Lucy said, giggling as she remembered. It was a very childish prank, but on one of their last days in Cair Paravel, the youngest king had gotten annoyed at his elder sister for forcing him to go over linen samples for the new sheets. When Susan fell asleep that night, she woke up the entire castle with her screams.

Peter chuckled, to Edmund's irritation.

The young king glared into the fire. "I thought it was funny," he muttered.

Nuzzling into Peter, Lucy sighed. "Do you think Cair Paravel is still standing?" she questioned.

Edmund frowned, not really wanting to think of such a thing. "I would think so. It's strong. And I'm sure Rillian's doing a jolly good job taking care of everything."

Lucy bit her lip, still in thought. "But it's been such a long time. What if something's wrong with Narnia?" she wondered out loud.

Kissing her temple, Peter smiled. "Narnia would never fall. Aslan would make sure of it."

"Oh Peter. Stop encouraging them," a voice said. The group's eyes shot to the back of the room, where a disapproving Susan sat, sipping a cup of tea.

Trying to meet her empty eyes, Peter pursed her lips. "Su, would you like to join us?" he asked politely.

"Please. Unlike some people," she said, wagging her finger, "I'm actually learning in school. Perhaps you should do the same. I'm sure your professors have told you that an object can't be bigger on the inside." Knowingly smirking, Susan took another sip.

Tearing his eyes away from his sister, the king gazed into the fire. He couldn't stand staring into her gaze. She looked like an alien, not even human, really. It was disgusting.

"You remember the wardrobe," Lucy gaped at her hopefully. Oh no, Lucy. She didn't.

Susan rolled her eyes. "Really, Lucy. I fear you'll never find yourself a husband. I mean, you still act like a child."

The young girl's lip quivered. "But-but it really was there." That statement brought Peter back to another instance when she said the same thing. Back then, he, like Susan, didn't believe her.

"Honestly, Lucy. I would think you should have grown out of our dreams and stories. It really was all the Professor's fault, you know," Susan replied matter-of-factly.

Edmund's brows furrowed in confusion. "How was it the Professor's fault?"

The older girl laughed. "You know, encouraging us. He kept telling us how he 'saw it all being born'. I always thought he was a horrible adult. Still can't believe the lot of us believed him," she said with a shake of her head.

A tear began to roll down Lucy's cheek. "But-but Aslan..."

Susan cocked her head. "Aslan? Ah yes, that lion." She began to chuckle to herself. "How naive we all were. Although, the war affected everyone. I was quite stupid for thinking a lion could talk. It's like..." she drifted off, attempting to find an example.

"It's like having trees move!" Susan exclaimed, and she fell into a fit of laughter.

That did it. Sobbing into Peter's shoulder, Lucy broke. Edmund stared at his elder sister in disbelief, not believing his eyes. Glaring at Susan, Peter could sense his resolve crack.

"Susan, stop it. It's insensitive for you to say things like that. Lucy was the closest to Aslan, you would know that," Peter said slowly. Any second now, he too would break, although not in tears like his sister. He was worried that his anger would cloud his judgement.

Susan disapprovingly clucked at her brother. "You have to grow up, Peter. Become an adult. I know it's hard, leaving behind all those childhood fairytales, but let me tell you, the adult world is real. It's honest and _real_."

"Really? England is real?" Peter spat out the words, the last drops of patience with it.

Susan nodded. "Well, of course. See. We're in England. I can smell it. I can touch it. I can see it. Can your 'Narnia' do the same?"

The king rose up to his full height, towering over at Susan. It didn't intimidate her whastoever. Instead, she patiently sat, waiting for him to let out his anger, as if he was a child.

"So, you're an adult in the real world now, huh?" he growled. "So, going to parties, dancing, putting on makeup, flirting, shopping, that's real?" Peter screamed in her ear.

Susan quizzically nodded, not quite sure where this was going.

"Narnia's not real, huh?" he whispered loudly.

"Of course not. It's impo-" But her brother interrupted her.

Peter's cold blue eyes started to rage at her. She was betraying them. She was betraying herself, the entire person she was, all she had faith in. How could she? How could _she_?

"So the battles, the deaths, the blood they weren't real? Edmund almost _dying_ in front of your eyes, that wasn't real? Aslan dying for _you_, not just for Ed, that wasn't real? Rabadash using you to get to the throne, that wasn't _real_? The memories, the birthdays, the joy we shared, none of that was REAL?!" Peter roared at her. He had to get to her. He had to remind her of everything she was missing, everything she was forgetting.

Susan glared angrily at him. "Lower your voice, Mum and Dad will wake up," she whispered quickly, her whisper ten octaves lower than her brother's. Despite the lack in volume, however, it was Susan's comment that hurt more. It was Susan's that ripped Peter apart.

Sighing, he lowered his voice. "If this was just a game, how could we create a whole life, gruesome deaths, and betrayals as children? Hmm? How could we have so much faith in Aslan, if he didn't even exist? Answer me that."

For the first time that night, his sister looked flustered. But only for a second. Putting on a blank face, Susan got up to meet her brother's eyes. "And Mum and Dad say you're the intelligent one."

Turning to go, Susan was about to go upstairs, when a hand grasped hers. Gasping in shock, she tried to wriggle out of Peter's grasp, to no avail.

His sad blue eyes stared into her soulless ones. "You know, eventually, masks have to be taken off," he muttered, low enough for her to hear. Letting go, Peter watched Susan run up the stairs and slam the door.

_Please, Aslan. Do something. And quick. _For if the wise lion didn't, the magnificent king was worried that it would be too late.

**Author's Note: This chapter almost made me cry. Susan makes me so mad and frustrated and annoyed, because really, how could she be so blind? **


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I really wish I owned Narnia, but I don't. If I did, I wouldn't be typing this, and instead be eating fish and chips with the Beavers. Although, I don't really like fish and chips. **

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_Faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the whole staircase – Martin Luther King Jr._

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"Where do we take these boxes, miss?" the moving guy asked, pointing to a pile before his feet.

The woman glanced at them for a second and took the pen. Writing down the address, she handed it back, her eyes lingering on the location for a second. She couldn't bear to go there herself.

The man frowned at the paper, and looked up at the woman, confused.

Seeing as how she wasn't going to say anything, the man sighed and packed the boxes in the truck. Whistling a jolly tune, he drove down the street and turned the corner, disappearing out of sight.

The things in the boxes weren't important to her. She had kept the special things, tiny trinkets that mattered most to her family, in a chest under her bed. The clothes, the pictures, and the toys, though, were to be thrown amongst piles of rotting fruit and decaying sofas. Perhaps some homeless family will enjoy them.

It had been two years since the horrible train accident. The day it happened, was the day the young Susan Pevensie changed. Hiding within herself, she didn't bother attending the parties or the gatherings. She talked very little, and only when spoken to. As the first year passed in complete silence and horrible, body wracking wailing, Susan aged ten years. Her eyes were no longer blank or soulless, but worse. To anyone she passed on the street, pain and loss bled out of her very pores, tainting the air with everything she felt. Nobody dared to meet her eyes, too scared of what they would see.

Heading back inside, the woman closed the door before tears began to flood her eyes. Everywhere she looked, she saw things missing. Gone was Lucy's laugh from the kitchen along with the aroma of her mother's cookies. Her father's pipe smoke was absent from the parlor, where Peter's tight hugs used to be. Only small remnants, memories really, were left of Edmund's voice, a balance between low and high. Susan couldn't stand looking at rooms with furniture that they sat on, that they used, that they talked over. Several months ago, she had thought of relocating to an apartment downtown, but knew that wasn't a possibility. Letting go was just as hard as staying put.

Trudging upstairs, Susan walked into the room Lucy and her shared. Where Lucy's bed stood, the blankets were carefully tucked in, ready to be slept in. Pictures of her friends and family, along with several of her doodles, were gone from the wall, leaving behind pale squares in the flower wallpaper. Outside, it began to rain.

She knelt down by her bed and reached out, her fingers softly brushing the metal lock of the trunk. Pulling it towards her, Susan brushed away the collecting dust from the top. The lock clicked as she opened it, revealing few objects placed carefully in the box. There was a letter from Peter, one she didn't know she had until she was cleaning her room after the accident. It was years old, written back when they had just started school after returning from the countryside. Beside it, lay a chess piece of Edmund's, a knight because it was his favorite. In her mind, Susan saw golden replica of it, a ruby eye glinting in the sun. Sending a pang through her heart, she quickly put it down, moving her eyes to her father's worn cross. He always wore it around his neck, and one day, told Susan that during the war, after he prayed each night, he felt happy, because God was telling him that she was safe. Under that, was her mother's most treasured recipe. During Christmas, the two would wake up early and bake shortbread cookies before the sun came up. Then, the whole family would walk down the street, handing their neighbors the treats. At the very bottom, was Lucy's last painting. Despite the lack of sunlight, the brilliant silver castle seemed to shine with all its might, while below, waves crashed against a cliff. Susan finally looked at the last object. Tucked away in a small pocket, she pulled it out, and held her hand to her mouth, holding back wails. She remembered the day the photo was taken, almost as if it was yesterday. It was back when they were children, her the age of ten. Lucy was sitting on Peter's lap, telling him of what she was going to name her doll. At Peter's feet, sat Edmund who was playing with his toy airplane, pretending it was crashing into Susan's castle made of wooden blocks. She was the only one smiling into the camera, a tooth in the front missing. She couldn't even look at herself.

Getting up, Susan took a shuddering sigh and looked at herself in the mirror. Compared to the girl in the photo, she was a tramp, a dirty rag. Her lanky hair was pulled hastily back with a ribbon. The lipstick she had so carefully applied this morning seemed drastically red, too red, resembling a clown. Her cheeks, red with rouge, were still pale, sullen and sunk into her bones. Where had her beauty gone? Where had she gone?

Where was Peter's strong bravery? Where was Edmund's unwavering loyalty? Where was Lucy's brilliant glow? As she stared at her reflection, Susan saw her siblings behind her.

"Lucy! Ed! Peter!" she yelped in happiness, and turned to beam at them, only to see the blank wall. Her beautiful smile fell back into a frown. Turning back, she saw them again.

For the first time in eight years, Susan saw how wonderful they truly were. While old Susan would have scoffed at them, this one just stared longingly at them. Lucy was grinning, waving happily at her. She turned to Peter and Edmund, saying something unintelligibly. They, too, smiled back and beckoned her to come closer.

Yet no matter how much she saw them plead, Susan couldn't hear. All she heard was fuzzy muffled cries, as if she had cotton in her ears. Shrieking, her fingers clawed at her face, tears bursting from her eyes. Why do they come back to haunt her? What had she done? Where had she gone wrong? Why do they flaunt their brilliance at her when Susan felt so alone, so lost? Why couldn't she have gone in their stead?

_I wonder what Heaven is like_, Susan wondered. _They were probably having a grand time without her, without boring old Su. They were probably laughing at her right now, mocking her hopelessness. _But they weren't, and she knew that. No matter how much she wanted them to hate her, Susan knew that they didn't. That realization hurt worse than anything else in the world.

After all, she deserved the hatred.

Wiping her tears, Susan knelt down again and pushed the case under the bed. Suddenly, she paused. She never did read that letter Peter had sent her. It remained unopened, and she was ever so curious.

Bringing the case back, she opened it, and took out the letter. Back when he had sent it, Susan had bet the envelope was pearly white, and the stamp a radiant red. Now, though, it was old, fading from years of dust and neglect. Taking out a pocketknife, she gently slit it, and slid the letter out. Gazing her eyes over it, Susan began to read.

_To Queen Susan the Gentle, Lady of the Horn,_

_It seems so strange being apart from you and Lucy, considering that the four of us have spent fifteen years in each other's presence. Edmund and I cannot bear not seeing the two of you everyday, but we must make do. Our studies take up most of our time, but even they are simple and quick. You should hear Edmund complain about his mathematics! He was the one that made sure the taxes were in order, as you remember, and here he is, doing simple algebra. It's blasphemy._

_Su, do you think that Narnia is safe and well? Several times, I fear that it has been torn apart, but then I remember that Aslan would never let that happen. Perhaps we were sent to Finchley because they didn't need us anymore. That thought makes me feel so useless, almost like a pawn._

_How are you and Lucy doing? I can't imagine how hard it must be for the two of you, especially Lu. Mentally, she's three-and-twenty, but she's stuck as an eight year old. She must be having a horrid time, acting the part of an innocent child, when she's ruled a country and fought in wars and saved her people. Is she still painting? I hope so, for her artwork is ever so beautiful._

_I must be heading off; supper is starting soon. Edmund has told me that he will be writing to you as well, so expect a letter from him sometime in this coming week._

_Best wishes,_

_High King Peter the Magnificent, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Cair Paravel, and Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion_

As she read the letter, Susan wondered as to why she hadn't read it before. Surely, she would have sent a letter back, seeing as it was her brother. What confused her though, was the formal writing, and how Peter used titles and unfamiliar words.

She recalled the week her siblings departed. They were constantly talking in hushed whispers, and occasionally, spoke of 'going back' and helping some man named 'Tirian'. Pretending not to have heard them, Susan had smeared on her lipstick and went to her parties. In the back of her mind, however, she was scolding them for going on about such useless things. Logically, none of that could exist. Logically, it was impossible.

Heading back downstairs, the letter still in her hand, Susan settled herself on the couch and reread it. It didn't make any sense. It was a game. She remembered how the four of them were running from Mrs. Macready and giggling, rushing into the wardrobe in the empty room. After that, it was all fuzzy. There were snatches of her being crowned by a _lion_, and her letting go of an arrow, the tip piercing through the board. There was a lamppost in the wood, and strange creatures dancing around a fire. How strange. No, Susan couldn't be a queen. If she was a queen, wouldn't she have stayed, ruling forever? And besides, siblings couldn't be kings and queens together. If she was a queen, Susan knew it would be far too miraculous to forget. After all, how could one forget an entire lifetime, one of ruling and peace?

Staring into the small fire, the woman pondered. Her and her siblings were always detached, as if something was holding her back, or them back. While they rattled on about childish games, it was Susan that acted like the mature adult, and did what mature adults do: move on. Really, was it that hard? Yet, looking back, Susan always felt inferior to the three. For it was Peter who guarded and protected them, almost like a warrior. And Lucy always had this strange unfaltering faith in _something_, which Susan had always envied. It was Edmund that had the cool level head, never arguing with her.

Suddenly, flashes shot through her mind. _It was Peter who was made knight, to always protect and keep safe his citizens. It was Lucy who brought hope to Narnia, reminding everyone where they had faltered. And it was Edmund who was saved by Aslan. What did she do? What had she done? Why was Susan crowned when she was so undeserving a title?_

No, it wasn't real, she thought, pushing those ruminations back to where they belonged. Susan wasn't a queen, never was. There weren't any lampposts in the wood, that was just a dream. And the strange creatures, they were hallucinations.

A seed of doubt still sat in her heart, however. Was she left to suffer? What had she done wrong? Growing up was not a crime!

Tugging on her coat, Susan briskly fluffed her hair and grabbed the keys. Stepping outside, the woman began to walk, jog, then run. Passersby gaped at her strangely, not completely sure who she was. Some whispered, saying that was the girl who lost her family. Everyone stared sympathetically at her as she sprinted out of her street, out of her neighborhood, and out of her town. Tears clouded her vision, but she didn't brush them away. She had the right to feel anger. It was _her _that had grown up. It was _her _that should have been rewarded by Asl-God.

Eventually, by the time the rain was letting up, Susan reached her destination. The iron gates were wide open, beckoning her into the world of the dead, the deceased. A couple of metres away stood a gravestone, with flowers covering the dirt. They were dead. She was alive. They should have been punished. Then, why did she feel so guilty?

Stepping carefully, Susan's leather shoes slapped the dirt pathway. She had only been here once, two years ago, when she saw them last. Swearing never to step foot in the graveyard again, Susan had turned her back on the coffins lowering into the confines of the earth. She didn't know what had brought her back.

Finally, her eyes were staring down at eight graves, all the same shape and size in a row. The Professor's was at one end, and Jill's at the other. She remembered the Professor telling her and her siblings stories in the parlor of his mansion, of a boy that had traveled to two different worlds, and saw one of them die, and another being born. She remembered gaping, wide eyed, at him with such faith and hope, such curiosity. _Curiosity is an unbecoming trait in a woman_, Susan reminded herself, but the thought seemed weak in her mind. Sinking down to the ground, her shoulders slumped. She was all alone. Completely alone.

Before she was even aware of it, her body began wracking with sobs. Her wails traveled through the air, towards the keeper of the land who didn't question the tears. He kept raking leaves off the grass, listening to the woman break apart.

"Why did you leave me?! Why?!" Susan screamed to a cloud, slightly brighter than the rest.

The cloud didn't answer.

"Why did you torture me?! Why did you just give up on me?! Why did you lie?!"

The grass didn't answer.

"You said I had to grow up. You said! I did! I did! So, then why do you haunt me?! Why?!"

The wind didn't answer.

Susan shook and fell into the grass, her cries muffled by the ground. "Why? Where had I gone wrong?!"

"You-you said you _loved _me. You said you would _protect _me. Where are you now? Huh? Where are you now?!"

She felt so lost, so confused. He had teased her, with promises of a kingdom and an era of peace. Then, just as she was feeling as if nothing could go wrong, he thrust her out, placing her where she felt like a wanderer. Again, he did the same, and she...she broke apart. How could somebody who loved her so much do this to her? How could he take away her home, her siblings, everything she loved? Did he want to her to suffer? Did he want for her to feel pain? She already felt pain! For the last ten years, her heart was torn into pieces! Why did he do this? Did he want to prove a point? Did he want to show how strong he was? He got his wish. She's weak, weaker than a feather, compared to him. She was but a Gentle Queen, weak and helpless.

The letter still in her hands, Susan began to tear it apart. Empty promises, empty meanings, empty lives. It was all a joke. She was a joke, something to be laughed over. She was nothing, and he knew that. He took advantage of her. Just like those men did. She hated men.

The tiny fragments blew into the breeze, several sticking to nearby trees. Some littered the ground and she brushed them away, not wanting to see the memories. They had left her, _he _had left her, and where was she? Stuck in a world she didn't belong in, doing meaningless tasks she didn't want to do. He saved Edmund, why didn't he save her?

Susan no longer cried. Her heart, it hurt. It hurt so much that she just wanted to curl up in a ball and never return. She just wanted to die and forget the pain and the suffering. Oh, feeling nothing would be ever so wonderful.

Behind her, a tiny fragment of the letter sensed the woman's pain. Letting go of the tree, he floated over to her, hoping to brush away her tears. She didn't deserve such sadness. Falling to the ground, he watched as the woman gazed at him, her eyes red and filled to the brim with tears, her heart heavy.

Picking up the tiny piece of paper, Susan's blue eyes turned darker. _Lucy_, it read, in Peter's quick black script. For a moment, her anger dissipated somewhat. She knew what Lucy would say if she was here right now. The young girl, almost woman, would stare at her elder sister with disappointed eyes, so full of love and hope. She wouldn't scold, but instead sit there with disbelief.

_Why? Why do you give up so easily? _She would ask.

Because it's easy. It's easy to let go and forget. It's wonderful to not feel the pain.

_Aslan never wanted to cause you pain._

Yes, Lucy, yes he did. If he didn't, you would be next to me, and not stuck in a wooden box. Heh, how ironic.

_Everything he did was for a reason, you know._

And what was the reason for this? Huh, Lucy? To remind me of what a horrible person I am?

Lucy would shake her head, and tears would start to fall. _We left because it was time. Because we did our part. Don't you remember? We grew up in Narnia. Now, it was time to grow up here._

I did! Lucy, I did!

_No, you just thought what you were doing was growing up. Growing up doesn't mean forgetting. Growing up means strengthening your faith. It means doing what you do best._

But...but I...Parties are what I'm best at! In Narnia, the balls...it was all my doing!

_Really? Are you sure?_

Lu, what are you going on about?

_Don't you remember? Back home, you were like the mother hen. You were strong and nurtured us. You were gentle._

No, I wasn't. I'm gentle now. Gentle means weak. Gentle means not going into battle, and shying away.

_Susan, you most of all would know what being gentle truly meant._

She did know what it meant. It meant standing on the sidelines, too scared to participate in a fight. It meant worrying about being pretty, instead of being intelligent or honest.

Snatches of memories floated back up to Susan's mind. They showed the Gentle Queen feeding medicine into a sick Peter's mouth, who had gotten pneumonia after a particularly nasty battle. There was the Lady of the Horn again, reading Lucy a fairytale after a nightmare. In the next one, Susan was shooting an arrow into a dwarf, who was just about to throw his ax into a dying Edmund. The young queen nursing a deer's broken leg. Paying for a poor faun's dinner. Riding into battle, a steady, deadly calm in her eyes as her thick black hair blew in the wind behind her.

Lucy continued. _You were gentle in Narnia. And now, you have to be gentle in England. After all, it's what you do best._

Yes, yes I suppose.

Lucy didn't answer.

Looking back down at the gravestones, Susan imagined her siblings staring at her in pity. They had done what they were called to do. Perhaps, had she listened, taken the cotton out of her ears, there would be another gravestone beside Jill's. And maybe, just maybe, she, too, would have been celebrating in Aslan's Country.

Above her, the clouds slowly moved apart and the sun began to shine.

**Author's Note: I started tearing up while writing this. This one is a lot longer than the rest, but I had to go into Susan's mind and explore as to her own thoughts, and what she was thinking. Anyway, the location the boxes were sent was the dump; Susan just didn't want to go there herself and let go of the possessions. **


End file.
